I'm What!
by Tintri
Summary: Does anyone ever plan to be the Dovahkiin? An alchemist's daughter on her way to the college of mages soon finds herself in way over her head, but it's too late to turn back now. Will contain pairings later, but I'm undecided yet. Rating may change


**I'm what?**

I do not own Skyrim….Obviously. I own a copy? I don't think that counts I do own Ciana Frostfire, my Dragonborn. And however the name may sound, it was the best I could think of for a Skyrim-authentic name.

"Ugh….." The light was bright, too bright, as Ciana stirred. "I feel like I got stomped on by a mammoth." She groaned. A moment later, she realized two things. The first was that the ground underneath her was moving…. The second was that she was tied up and had no recognition of the feel of the clothes she was wearing. She sat up straight, stunned as she looked around. She was on the back of a wagon full of men bound who knows where. Across from her was a handsome blond Nord, who seemed inordinately happy to see her awake.

"AH! You're finally awake." He grinned. "What is your name?"

"Ciana Frostfire… and I'm wishing I wasn't, my head is killing me. Where am I? The last thing I remember I was nearing the border. I was bound to Winterhold to study Healing at the Mage's college…Who are you?" She winced.

"Name's Ralof. Damn Imperials are stopping everyone at the border." He said. "We're bound to Helgen, likely to the block." He said calmly. Wonderful, she was headed for an unearned execution with a crazy man…. She only half paid attention as Ralof bickered with a horse thief from some place called Rorikstead and revealed that the decent looking middle-aged gentleman in the back with the gag was a Jarl who'd killed the high king of Skyrim.

She couldn't help but examine him. He was well-dressed, dignified, and didn't look anything like she would have expected a murderer to look like. Her mother Ogyla had stared when she had received the news at their shop in Bruma. She'd grown up in Whiterun and kept informed of goings-on in Skyrim.

So this was a man who killed a high King. It mystified her. His image in Cyrodiil was not at all positive. To hear tales, she had expected him to be hideous, to look like an obvious monster. No, he was just… Average. Normal. Even good-looking. He looked like the father of the man down the road her brother had married.

Caught up in her musings, she jumped when the carriage came to a jostling start. Apparently they had reached their destination. _Oh, papa_, she thought, _you were right. I should just have found a place to study at home. Or stayed to work at the shop and married the innkeeper's son. _She bit back her fear as they led her into the line. Mother always said that a Nord should be strong when faced with the end. Hopefully someone would tell her Aunt and Uncle in Whiterun that she wouldn't be arriving for her planned visit on the way to the college…

"What's your name, Prisoner?" Asked the auburn-haired soldier with the ledger.

"Ciana Frostfire." She said quietly.

"She's not on the list." He called to the General. General Tullius, she remembered. His garrison had stopped in at her father's shop for some healing and stamina potions.

Hope surged for a moment. Maybe he remembered the fair-skinned redhead stocking the shelves years back? The name at least?

"We can't take the chance; send her to the block with the rest of them." The general didn't even look at her.

The red-haired man winced. "You picked a bad time to return home, kinsman."

She really was on her way out. Her heart sunk as she followed the rest of the prisoners on their way to their doom. Anxiety rose as she saw a man's death, and she swallowed hard as her name was called next. There was a strange noise as she approached the block, but the headsman shoved her roughly to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting, when all hell broke loose. Startled by the commotion, She opened her eyes to see… What? A Dragon? By the eight… They were supposed to be long gone! Ciana jumped to her feet, staring a moment. Shor's mercy, this wasn't going to be good, her hands were tied! She couldn't defend herself! Her modest skyforge steel dagger, a gift from her mother, was long gone anyway… The red-haired soldier from before—She thought someone had called him Hadvar?—stood in front of her protectively with his sword drawn. Apparently he hadn't supported her execution. She looked around helplessly for an escape.

The blond man, Ralof was calling to her and she followed him into a tower. Ciana stared back and forth at him and Jarl Ulfric as they spoke about the dragon. She was inclined to believe Ulfric: Legends don't burn down cities. Whether Skyrim was ready or not, Dragons-or a dragon, at the least-were returned.

"What do we do?" She asked quietly.

"To the top of the tower, follow me." Ralof said.

She didn't see what that would solve but at this point what was there to lose? Halfway up the tower, there was a thunderous noise and she saw fire. The very air was boiling even a few steps down and she could see a hapless man burnt to death before the dragon left again. Ralof stared for a moment, then looked around when the smoke cleared. She said a silent prayer to Arkay for the soul of the dead before looking back to him.

"Do you see the roof of the inn over there? Drop through and get down to the street, we need to run to the keep!" He instructed before taking off.

Ciana jumped, just barely making it. Her legs stung from wayward embers and she looked for the way out. After getting through and down to the ground, she looked for Ralof, but he was nowhere to be found. After a moment's panic, she saw Hadvar, saving a child from a dragon. Her faith in the Imperial legion was beginning to be restored due to this man… She followed him off to the side.

"You're still alive, Prisoner?" He looked surprised, "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

"Yes, sir." She squeaked, following him as he ran off. After a few close encounters, they were within sight of the keep. Ralof returned and the two argued for a bit. Apparently they knew each other? She shrugged that off, following Hadvar into the keep.

He looked her over. "We're going to need to stick together if either of us is going to make it out of here. What was your name again?" He asked as he cut her bonds.

"Ciana. " She said, "My parents own Frostfire Herbs and Potions in Bruma… Why did General Tullius want me to be executed? He knew my father…"

"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding," He assured her. "This is a war of treachery and it's got everyone a little on edge, I'm sure when it hits him he'll feel terrible. Alright, you're freed." He rubbed her wrists a little to help restore circulation before letting them go, "You're going to need armor and a sword. There should be something in one of these trunks."

Ciana nodded dully. "I hope so.. I don't really know how to use a sword, though. I've never had to fight anyone.."

"Things are a little safer in Cyrodiil, I suppose." Hadvar nodded, "Quick lesson: The pointy end goes in what you want dead." He said. The twinkle of amusement in his grey eyes softened his dry tone and for a moment he reminded her of her cousin Cyrus, who'd been like a brother to her before he had gone to the capital to start an apprenticeship in the smithy.

After a bit of searching, they'd gotten her outfitted in a set of leather armor and boots, armed with a heavy steel sword. She pushed the helmet over her dark red curls… it took a couple of attempts to get it to sit right and she could tell he was amused. "Alright." She said. "So what now?"

"This way." He led her through the keep. She'd picked up a few things she could get money for to survive off of, as well as some gold. The sword just didn't work for her, she'd discovered the hard way, taking a slice to the shoulder from an enemy before finally accidentally killing him with a swipe to the neck, but somewhere along the way she'd picked up a mace and a shield that worked just fine. The mace was simple, and she had her mother's temper. Once those stormcloaks got on her nerves enough—honestly, attacking without provocations? Treacherous beasts!—she found out she could swing with lethal force and (usually) lethal aim! They stopped in one room to grab some food and potions (Not as good as the ones she and her parents brewed, but sufficient to survive in the short term, and that was what mattered) before heading into a strange underground cave. She had her first glimpse at frostbite spiders, which were as awful as she'd expected, before Hadvar had offered to let her shoot a bear or sneak by. Let him see her terrible archery skills? No thank you. He was still laughing at her sword performance! Her childhood playing with her sisters and rowdy cousins had taught her enough about sneaking to lead Hadvar by without a moment's detection, though and finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her tired, abused body, they emerged in the daylight outside.

"I don't even know what day it is anymore." She commented to Hadvar, staring back at the smoking wreck that had once been a thriving city. What was wrong with her, thinking about dates and times at a time like this?

"I don't know if anyone else made it out." Hadvar shook his head. "I couldn't have done it without you, friend." Charitable, in her opinion. He was an expert in combat, she was a pissed-off nineteen year old. The encouragement helped, though.

"I don't know what to do anymore." She said. "I don't have my map, and I have no idea where Helgen is. I've only been to Skyrim on a few short trips with my mother, and I was very little."

"We should head to Riverwood. It's the closest town, and I have an uncle there who should be able to give us some supplies and a place to sleep for now." He said.

"Sounds good to me." She said. Wasn't like she had any other choices, and Hadvar had been kind to her. She trusted him. "Lead on."

Half a day's run took them to Riverwood. They stopped momentarily before the town to clean up a little and dress each other's wounds, then entered the town. She followed him to the blacksmith's.

Alvor was a kind, cheerful man who seemed stunned by their story. Seated around his table at dinner as the sun went down, he considered their words carefully before turning to Ciana.

"You've helped my nephew greatly, it seems, but I have another, larger favor to ask of you, if you don't mind. The Jarl in Whiterun needs to know if there's a dragon at large. Riverwood is defenseless. We need him to send troops. Could you please relay a message?" He asked finally.

She nodded. "Sure, just let me rest up tonight or I won't be any good to anyone. My uncle Olfrid is waiting for me there anyway, and I'm sure he and my aunt are worried by now."

"Olfrid of the clan Battle-Born?" He inquired.

She grinned, "Of course. My mother definitely has the temper."

Alvor smiled wryly, but held his tongue. The Battle-Borns tended to be a bit…. Obnoxious at times.

Ciana followed him out to his forge later. He stopped and turned, arching an eyebrow. "Can I help you, lass?" He asked, curious. He had figured she would have fallen asleep right away, by the looks of her.

"I guess I'm just a little to…I don't know. I'm tired, but I can't stop thinking about it all. Is there anything I can help with?" She asked, a touch of strain slipping into her voice.

"Ah," He chuckled, "You've had an eventful couple of days. Hadvar had some getting used to as well when he joined the legion."

She made a face, "Couldn't tell to look at him. He's so composed."

"Takes practice, child. Here, I want you to forge a steel dagger. Let's see how well you can do that and we'll move from there. We've had an increased demand in those from travelers these days, roads aren't as safe as they once were."

"I had a dagger of Skyforge steel my mother gave me when I left home…" She fought the rush of emotion as she thought of the lost item. It was just a small thing… why did it bother her so much when it was nearly her head she lost, in a literal sense? "Her father gave it to her when she went to Cyrodiil with my father. His friend had made it specially for her… Apparently the Gray Manes and the Battle-borns aren't talking anymore, but in those days, they were close friends." She realized, as she was working on the dagger he'd instructed, she was rambling.

"Much has changed." Alvor nodded knowingly. "Skyforge steel is quite nice, but I like to think our normal steel works just as well. Adjust the balance on that a bit." He instructed her, "Good, now steady and check your other side."

She followed his instructions, eventually getting lost in her work and the sound of a patient voice. Alvor moved to look at the finished product. "Well done." He picked it up. "Good balance, particularly for a first-timer, but she's a little dull. Take these and sharpen it." She did as directed and he smiled at her. "There now, why don't you keep that. I know it's not the same as the one you've lost, but there's nothing quite like a weapon you've made with your own hands."

This time, she couldn't help but tear up a little. "Thank you so much." She wanted to hug him, but people were a little different in Skyrim and it probably wouldn't be appropriate. Of her parents, her alchemist father was the more demonstrative of the two, while her strong Nord mother was more reserved. Thus far, it seemed to be a common trait here.

He squeezed her shoulder, then led her into the next lesson and she worked until she was too tired to think. Over the hours, the quality of her work improved and he soon told her that he thought some of her pieces would sell quickly. "It's that attention to detail!" He said, "That is important in the craft of smithing." While she didn't consider herself to be nearly as good with smithing as with the alchemy she had learned from her father, it was interesting to learn more of the craft her cousin was so enamored of. Perhaps the next day, she'd brew some potions for the journey before heading out, she mused as she headed to bed. Thoughts ceased as her head hit the pillow and all awareness abruptly ceased.

The next morning, Hadvar's Aunt told her to stay an extra day and recover, so she took a look around the town for the morning, selling the items she'd acquired in the fort and saving her gold like a miser to try and rebuild the comfortable sum her parents had sent her from home with to provide for herself. The Valeriuses seemed very upset about the recent burglary of their store resulting in the loss of some "Golden claw". Sounded bizarre to her, but she promised to keep an eye on it as she was on her travels. All in all, Riverwood seemed like a nice town, if much smaller than what she was used to. Sometime in the afternoon, she returned to help Alvor some more in the forge. It was a small thing, she knew, but she felt the need to repay their hospitality somehow.

"You should consider joining the legion." Hadvar told her sometime later, at dinner, "I know you're a beginner, but you show promise and the legion needs good men."

She arched an eyebrow at him and he blushed. "Well, and women, of course!" He amended hastily. "Can always use more women… um…."

Dorthe giggled and Ciana grinned at her. It was refreshing to see Hadvar flustered, at last. She raised her glass of wine flippantly at him before taking a sip.

"As you were saying, Hadvar?" She smirked.

"Er, yes. The legion! Give it a thought?" He tried.

"I'll think about it, but I never really planned to be a fighter. I learned alchemy from my father and I planned to go to the Mage's college for training in healing, warding, and enchanting and find a quiet job in a shop providing those sorts of services." She shrugged.

"Cyrodiil is a very different place from Skyrim, I suppose." He mused, "You haven't really been affected by the war and life must be easier."

"Safer, certainly." She conceded, "But I wouldn't say easier in every way. My mother would disagree, of course."

He shrugged. "Like I said. Please think about it."

"I did say I would." She laughed.

"He's as pouty as Stump sometimes." Dorthe giggled.

"I noticed." She nodded, then started writing a letter. In the morning, she handed Alvor a few septims and asked if he could see that a courier brought it to her parents. He promised to do so, and after a bittersweet farewell, she was on the road yet again. She hoped this time things went more smoothly, though between the near-execution and dragon, she wasn't sure how it could be any worse.

Sure enough, it was a largely uneventful trip. She'd had to tell the guards she was kin to the Battle-Borns and had a message for the Jarl from Riverwood to get in, but with dragons returning, it made sense to her. As she headed up to Dragonsreach, it was achingly tempting to stop off to the Battle-Born family home and see her kin, but Riverwood had been good to her and she had to see to their safety.

The thought of speaking to a Jarl, one of the kings of Skyrim, would have been daunting to her not long ago, but after facing a dragon and those awful spiders, she would prefer the Jarl any day now. Steeling herself for probably the millionth time in the last week, she headed up the stairs.. And ran right into a solid older man exiting the keep.

"Sorry about that!" She said quickly.

The well-dressed older man looked down at her. "Gray Mane or Battle-Born?" He asked her loudly.

"Huh?" She blinked up at him.

"_Gray Mane or Battle-Born?"_ he repeated loudly.

"Uncle Olfrid?" She took off her leather helmet, unruly curls springing up around her face.

He stared, "Little Ciana? Is that you? Look at you all grown-up and dressed in Legion armor! We expected you days ago!"

She blushed, "Well, long story, there, but I'm actually here to speak to the Jarl…I'm afraid it's not great news."

He shook his head, "By the divines, you look like your mother, child… But what kind of news could you have for a Jarl's ears?"

"Well… It's a long story. Do you want to come with me or should I meet you at the homestead?"

"I'll go with you." He said. "I'm afraid I can't resist my curiosity."

"I'd appreciate the company." She replied quietly. "Been an eventful few days."

He followed her back into the keep, and she could tell he was puzzled, but she wanted to tell the family as a group.

As she reached the top, she was stopped by a tall, forbidding looking Dunmer woman. "What business have you for the Jarl?" She demanded.

Ciana took a deep breath. "I bring news for the Jarl's ears. I was at Helgen." She could feel her uncle's shock and horror behind her, "Riverwood requests aid from the Jarl, the dragon approaches this direction."

The woman regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "…The Jarl will see you."

Ciana approached The Jarl's chair and gave her message. After some objections, she learned three things. The Jarl was a man of action and integrity; the Dunmer woman's name was Irileth, and she was his… housecarl? Whatever that was… The third was that whatever his steward's objections, he was going to help Riverwood. Her relief at a job well done was short-lived, though, as he asked her to follow him for another request.

He led her to the court Wizard, Farengar's rooms, and instructed the wizard to explain. They needed her to find a.. Dragonstone? She listened and, against her uncle's (loud) protests, she reluctantly gave the only response she could. "I'll do it."

"She's just come from a city that's been incinerated by a monster of legend and traveled all this way, she's a merchant's daughter not a… huh?" Olfrid stopped. "Ciana, dear, you can't be serious."

"I am…" She sighed. "Someone has to do it, I just…Jarl Balgruuf, Please let me spend some time with my family, and get a few days of training. I haven't seen them since I was about five."

The Jarl nodded. "That's fair enough in my book. Tarry not overlong, though. Time is of the essence."

Ciana nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Olfrid shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing, child. You're going to spend the next few days training with your cousin and whoever he brings you to work with."

"Which cousin is that?" She asked. She knew she had two of them, both older than her.

"Idolaf, he serves in the legion, but is on leave right now."

"I know a man who wants me to join, but I'd much prefer to go to Winterhold and forget all of this." She sighed, "Perhaps after this last mission."

"You wish to study magic?" Farengar asked curiously.

"It was my plan." She nodded.

"Best of luck making it through all of this." He said, "I can see that you're going to need it, however, if you're a mage, perhaps you'll have the brains necessary to ensure your survival"

"I hope so." She shook her head, following her uncle out of the keep.


End file.
